


Wafflegangster

by Annie_Won



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergence, CyberLife Tower, Gen, Pacifist Route, Platonic Relationships, no beta we die like Connors, plus one angry boi, rated T for Hank's language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 22:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17775821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie_Won/pseuds/Annie_Won
Summary: "So what's your deal anyway, you his evil twin or something?""I am not evil," the android snapped. "I am merely a machine, accomplishing a task.""Pretty pissy for a machine, if you ask me," Hank said, knowing he was getting under the impostor's skin--or plating, whatever it was. Maybe not the best idea when there was a gun to his head, but at this point, he was beyond done.--When Markus successfully convinces Connornotto go Cyberlife Tower, Hank is left to deal with the other RK800 on his own.





	Wafflegangster

“I need your help Lieutenant.”

Hank was immensely relieved when Connor showed up on his doorstep, back in his tacky Cyberlife uniform again but still in one piece. That was the important thing. Though he would never admit it aloud--or even to himself--Hank had been worried when his android partner had left to infiltrate the deviants' hideout without him. Particularly so when, with nothing else to do, Hank had turned on the TV to be greeted with a live news report of said hideout being raided by the FBI. Which then subsequently exploded.

None of that was Connor's doing, he was pretty sure. Despite how much the kid blathered about the importance of his mission, Hank had seen him time and again act in ways to its direct disadvantage. Something had changed in the android, and probably for the better. When he had discovered Jericho's location he hadn't reported it in, insofar as Hank was aware, but rather implied that he was going to investigate it himself.

This didn't mean he hadn't been followed, though, and Cyberlife clearly only thought of their androids as tools—disposable and easily replaced. It wouldn't matter to them if Connor had still been on the ship when it exploded, or if some soldier had mindlessly gunned him down. They had what they wanted.

Hank had cursed himself for not being there, as if that would have somehow made a difference. He had wanted to go along, but Connor had made the point that the older detective would have blown his cover.

“They don't design androids that look...quite like you, Lieutenant.” He had put it as politely as he could, and while Hank huffed and gruffed about it, he had to concede that Connor was right. An old, busted human like him would stick out like a sore thumb among a bunch of androids and they probably wouldn't take too kindly to him being there. The best he could do was to lend Connor some old clothes to disguise himself with and wish him luck.

It didn't feel like enough, though, and Hank's stomach had churned as he helplessly watched the situation deteriorate. The thought of all those androids, fleeing...for their lives, he realized, Connor most likely among them...it was wrong. It was all wrong.

Hank hadn't slept well that night, and he checked his phone first thing in the morning. There was a voice mail from Fowler that he ignored—probably just about his suspension for punching a federal agent in his stupid face—and nothing from Connor. The news claimed that there were still some deviants on the loose, but the situation was under control and all androids were being sent to “recycling centers”, as they called it, for deactivation. Just to be safe, as if the deviants hadn't been protesting peacefully the entire time.

Hank had tried calling Connor himself, multiple times, but he never got an answer. That wasn't a good sign. It wasn't like Connor could have lost his phone or anything, seeing as it was built into his fucking brain or whatever. But it did go to voice mail, so that had to be something, right? With one final call, Hank left a message, demanding to know where the hell Connor was with his last shred of hope.

He eventually got a text message back, simply reading “I'm okay.”

Short, to the point, and not entirely reassuring. It was nice to know his partner wasn't floating down the river in a billion little pieces, but “okay” didn't tell Hank jack shit otherwise.

He didn't get anything else from the android until the doorbell rang that night and he found the young man on the other side, looking as pristine and calm as ever.

“Not so much as a howdy doo, huh?” he asked, trying to mask his relief. For a second there he almost felt like hugging the bastard, but instead he just clamped his hand on his shoulder and led him inside.

“I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but time is of the essence.”

“Right, shit. Lemme get changed real quick.”

Sumo padded into the living room to see who it was, and Hank left him in the company of the android. The last time Connor was here, once again waiting for Hank to get dressed, the man had caught him petting the dog when he had come back out. Connor hadn't noticed him and Hank hadn't said anything about it, but it was yet another little thing that tipped him off. There was no reason to program an investigative android to actually like dogs, after all.

“What exactly's going on?” he shouted from his bedroom, as he threw on some presentable clothes. In his opinion. They weren't wrinkled, at least. Did it really matter right now?

“I'll explain on the way,” Connor replied, loud but not yelling like Hank had. “I know it's a lot, but I have to ask you to just trust me on this.”

Hell, just a week ago Hank would have balked at the very idea. Trust an android? Not on his life. But this particular android had saved his life, what, two times already? Maybe even three. That night of Russian Roulette could have gone badly.

Which was the point, at the time. But now, for the first time in years, Hank felt motivated. He wanted to do something, wanted to help. Wanted to do the right thing. And this felt right.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

He didn't, not really. Hank hadn't really done anything for him except risk his job (which he had been barely hanging onto in the first place) by punching Perkins. And that was his idea anyway. Connor had simply asked for a distraction; honestly, Hank probably would have jumped at any excuse to deck that fucker.

“Of course, Lieutenant.”

Hank holstered his gun as he rounded the corner. He didn't catch Connor petting Sumo this time. The dog was laying off to the side, staring in the android's direction where he stood, stock still, exactly where Hank had left him.

Something felt off. Connor looked as stiff as he did when they first met.

“You okay?”

“Relatively speaking. A lot has happened. But I really appreciate your help, Hank. It's...nice to know that I have someone I can count on.”

Hank could have laughed at that. He was the least reliable person he knew. But, shit. Connor sounded sincere. And to think that someone was actually counting on _him_ was a little nerve wracking.

“All right, all right, let's go already,” he said dismissively. Now was not the time to get sappy. “You're in a hurry, right? Where we even going?”

“Cyberlife Tower.”

Hank locked the front door behind them as they left and turned around to see an automated taxi pulled up in the front of the house.

“I have a car, you know.”

“I'm well aware Lieutenant, but we need to be discreet.”

Fuck, androids were one thing, but automated cars? The kid was really asking a lot from him now, but “do the right thing” kept flashing in his mind, so he steeled himself and followed Connor into the taxi.

“Whaddya going to Cyberlife for?” he asked, buckling in. Now was as good as any time for explaining, he figured. “And how do I factor in?”

“Thousands of inactive androids are stored at the Tower. Should they wake up and join the uprising, their numbers would surely turn the tide.”

“No kidding,” Hank grinned. He still didn't see how he was gonna be of help, but there was a more pressing question he wanted to ask first:

“So, deviant, huh?”

He was expecting a sheepish look on Connor's part, or maybe even a small smile. Instead, before he even had time to react, Connor reached over and took his gun. In far too fast a motion, it was cocked and aimed directly at Hank's forehead.

“Unfortunately.”

 

\---

 

“You wanna infiltrate the Cyberlife Tower? Connor, that's suicide.”

Markus was right. Connor tried not to dwell on that point as they stood in a corner of a dingy, abandoned church, trying to figure out their next move. Connor hadn't even thought he would get this far, half expecting Markus to throw him out, but for some reason—despite it all—the deviant leader had decided to trust him.

It left Connor scrambling for ideas, a way to pay them back, to prove himself, to make up for everything he had done.

“They trust me, they'll let me in. If anyone has a chance of infiltrating Cyberlife, it's me.”

“If you go there, they _will_ kill you.”

Probably. He didn't calculate the odds. He didn't want to, and didn't need to. They were obviously not in his favor. Getting in was feasible, but getting back out? Cyberlife was most likely already aware that he had gone deviant. The front doors may very well be as far as he would get.

High risk, but high reward. They needed those androids.

Despite himself, his preconstruction program kicked in and Connor winced, quickly terminating it. His newfound deviancy had left him a mess. He felt everything, all at once and more strongly that he ever had, and it took a conscious effort to not crumble underneath it. He couldn't handle his programs in the neutral way he had before. He knew the odds were bad, but the idea of putting an actual number to it only made it worse. It was an irrational feeling, but that seemed part and parcel of this whole deviancy thing.

Was this how Hank felt _all the time?_ How did humans do it?

“You don't have to do this, Connor.” Markus had picked up on his hesitancy. “We can always go back for the others later. There's no point in getting yourself killed for nothing.”

“But--"

“You don't need to sacrifice yourself to make amends. What happened wasn't your fault, and if you want to help us, then we could really use you here. _Alive_.”

Connor looked down at his feet. He couldn't understand how Markus could be so forgiving, and concerned about his safety, of all things. He didn't deserve it. And before, those kind words wouldn't have meant anything to him. Before, he would have accepted his mission no matter what.

But this was now, and the truth was...Connor wanted to live. He finally had a chance to, and he wanted it. He wanted it so bad it was overwhelming. He wanted to be his own person. He wanted to find out what he really liked and what he didn't. He wanted to know what real happiness was.

More than anything, he wanted to see Hank again.

He had been surprised when he got the calls, partly because Hank had figured out how to do it, but mostly because he had called at all. More than once. Connor had still been too out of sorts to take them, unsure what either of them would have to say, but when Hank finally left him a message, he sent him one back.

The man had sounded worried. About _him_. It was strange. But it was...nice? Not that he wanted Hank to worry, but just the thought that someone might care about him enough to...no one had ever cared about him before. Not for him personally. There was no need. If anything ever happened to him, he could always be replaced.

He had told Hank as much, that day he had almost chased those deviants across the highway. But Hank was always upset when he threw himself into danger regardless. Connor never understood then, but he was starting to now. Especially since he wouldn't be replaced this time, if anything happened. Not with himself anyway.

He got the feeling that Hank wouldn't like that. That if he were here, he definitely wouldn't approve of Connor's plan. Probably call him an idiot or something. Maybe he was. Maybe Hank and Markus had a point. It was a suicide mission.

Still, shouldn't he try? The revolution was more important. To put his own safety first would be selfish...

“Come on, Connor, please.” He looked up to see Markus' soulful, mismatched eyes boring into him. “It will be all right.”

Somehow, Connor believed him. It seemed illogical but it _felt_ right. Markus was what one would call a natural born leader, except he wasn't naturally born at all. And yet there was something about him, something you couldn't just program in. Really, it was no wonder things had taken off as quickly as it did with him at the helm. Maybe...maybe it was okay to believe in him.

“A-Alright. I won't go.”

Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe he was scared. Maybe the revolution would fail, maybe it wouldn't. Maybe androids would be free. Maybe he could still redeem himself.

Maybe he would see Hank again. Maybe Hank might be happy to see him. Maybe he might even be proud...

Connor didn't know anymore, but he wanted to find out.

 

\---

 

“Connor, what the hell?!”

Hank was, sadly, used to having his own gun pointed at him, but only because his depressed ass was usually the one holding it. Looking down the barrel with his straight laced partner on the other side was an entirely different matter. Especially when the gun was fully loaded this time. With the city descending into madness, it paid to take precautions, though this was not the kind of situation he had been worried about.

Connor had always seemed so harmless to him. Hank knew that this was very much intentional and most definitely _not_ the case, but still. While he probably could be a killing machine, he hardly was one. Hank had only seen him fire a gun once, to stop that deviant in Stratford Tower from massacring everyone else in the hall. The other couple times he had inexplicably ended up with a gun at his disposal, he hesitated, looked trouble, never pulled the trigger. Even when that fucker Kamski asked him to shoot another android point blank, dangling precious information in front of him like a carrot on a stick, Connor couldn't do it.

Connor had never shown any hostility towards Hank either. Not even when he was being an asshole to him, which granted was most of the time, or even when Hank had pointed a gun to his head.

Jesus, he never apologized for that, did he? Maybe Connor was never hostile because he couldn't be, but now that he was deviant, he was (rightfully) pissed off and...

“Relax Lieutenant. I'm not going to shoot unless you give me reason to.”

No. That didn't make sense. None of this did. Hank couldn't imagine his personality doing a one-eighty like that, and what reason did he have to take him to Cyberlife at gun point? He had already agreed to come.

“Fuck, did they reprogram you?!”

He was back in his Cyberlife uniform, after all, not the clothes Hank had given him. In hindsight, he really should have asked about that, but he had been too relieved just to see him alive again to care about what he was wearing.

“Not at all,” the android said coolly, a smirk across his face. “I am functioning as intended.”

Connor never smirked. Connor could barely manage a smile.

What Connor did was try to get on Hank's good side, except when it came to his eating habits. He pet his dog when he thought no one was watching. He played with that coin of his, claiming he was calibrating when Hank was pretty sure he was just fidgeting. He saved Hank's life at the cost of his mission. He hesitated to shoot deviants when he had the chance.

Connor would never smirk while pointing a gun at anyone, his LED spinning a calm blue all the while.

“You're not Connor.”

“Well done Lieutenant,” chirped the impostor, erasing any lingering doubt. “Truly the DPD's finest.”

Nope. Definitely not Connor. Connor was a lot of things, but he wasn't a smug son of a bitch, that was for damn sure.

_Shit._

 


End file.
